


No Time to Dine

by Celyan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond has a Plan, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Quite Literally, which then gets shot to pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: The very first time Q goes out on a date with James Bond, it’s a disaster.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 11
Kudos: 257





	No Time to Dine

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling a little empty after finishing my RBB, which is the main reason why this silly little fic of mine was born. That, and the fact that the first line just popped into my head and demanded to be written. 😆
> 
> All the thanks go to my lovely betas, Christine and Souffle, without whom this fic would have been a lot messier. (Though for once, I actually did _not_ need their help for the title. 😂)

The very first time Q goes out on a date with James Bond, it’s a disaster. 

Well, perhaps not a complete disaster, as it ends in an adrenalin-fuelled kiss that is, if Q’s being totally honest with himself, the best first kiss he’s ever had. 

It goes like this… 

*

Bond picks Q up from Q Branch at 6 pm on the dot. He’s the epitome of a perfect gentleman: he helps Q into his parka, he offers to carry Q’s messenger bag for him, he guides Q along with a hand on the small of his back and does something with his face that keeps Q’s minions from doing anything more than giving them brief looks, and he even opens the car door for Q. 

Q is amused and perhaps a tiny bit impressed, and while he’d never actually admit it out loud to anyone, himself included, he absolutely adores the attention. 

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going, or is it going to be a surprise?” he asks after fastening his seatbelt and making himself comfortable next to Bond. 

“We are going to a nice little French restaurant,” Bond replies. “It’s nothing too fancy,” he hastens to add, possibly due to the Look he has just received from Q. Given the fact that he’s just finished his shift and hasn’t been home to take a shower or at least change his shirt, Q’s wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing the whole day, and while they’re nothing to scoff at, they’re nowhere near posh enough for the places Bond usually frequents. 

“It had better not be, or I’ll be rather disappointed with you,” Q says, voice dry but with enough of a smile to tell Bond that he isn’t necessarily too serious about his words. Well, unless he needs to be, that is. 

“Fear not, Quartermaster, I did take into account the long day you’ve had, and planned our evening accordingly.” 

Bond himself is, of course, wearing one of his immaculate suits, but when isn’t he? Q’s learned not to make any assumptions based on the man’s attire, as he looks perfectly at home anywhere whether he’s wearing a suit or nothing at all — Q may or may not have photographic evidence of both, but that’s beside the point. 

“And are you going to tell me more about those plans of yours?”

“I am, when the time is right.” 

Q raises an eyebrow at that, but eventually decides that ‘wait and see’ is a perfectly acceptable approach. So he allows Bond to move the conversation towards lighter topics, or more precisely, to books that they’ve been reading and movies they’ve been watching lately. 

That conversation carries them over through their arrival at the restaurant, to being seated and given menus, and even to Bond ordering them drinks to start off the evening. 

“To a lovely evening,” Bond says as he raises his martini. “First of many more to come.” 

Q chuckles and raises his glass, as well. “To a lovely evening,” he agrees. “Decision on any additional ones still pending.” 

Bond laughs, delighted. “You’re going to make me work for them, aren't you?” 

“Of course,” Q nods. “So you might want to put your back into it.” 

“It might help if you put your back into it, as well. Strength in numbers, and all that.”

“I just might,” Q says, “if you make it worth my while.” 

“Certainly,” Bond promises, and there is a sparkle in his eyes when he reaches out a hand to gently grasp Q’s and bring it to his lips. Q shivers at the feeling of a kiss being pressed against his fingers, and he has a very good feeling about this date of theirs.

That is, naturally, when things go boom.

Quite literally, actually, as Q finds out the hard way when the first gunshot shatters the wine glass he’s just put down in front of him. 

Bond reacts even before Q can feel the pain of the small glass shards cutting into his skin, and he dives to the floor, taking Q with him. Q blinks, dazed and slightly confused, as he looks up into the face of 007 on top of him. 

Of course someone would be shooting at them just when things were about to get more interesting, he thinks, annoyed. 

Though to be fair, he never did expect to end up under Bond in a _restaurant_ of all places. Bond’s flat, perhaps, or his own, those were among the realm of possibilities, but never a restaurant.

“Q? Are you all right?”

“I am. Considering we were just shot at. Was it aimed more at you or at me? I couldn’t quite tell…” 

Bond shakes his head, amused, even as he scans the restaurant for the shooter. Or shooters, plural, because statistically it would be more than plausible to have several people shoot at them. Or at Bond, which is a bit more likely; after all, _he_ is the one who goes around giving his real name to villains and civilians alike all willy nilly. Also the reservations were undoubtedly under his name, too. 

“At me, I’d imagine,” Bond replies eventually. “Oh, there he is,” he continues after another bullet hits the floor a bit too close for comfort, for Q anyway. Bond is most likely used to it, double-oh agent that he is. 

The people around them are screaming and scrambling to get to safety, and the chaos is surely making it harder for the man shooting at them to actually see them. Q hopes, anyway. He’s starting to slightly regret not having taken any extra field training courses and, more importantly, not having any of his weapons with him. He’s certainly no field agent, but he knows his way around the weapons the double-ohs use better than anyone else, 007 included. 

“You do have your Walther with you, if I’m not completely mistaken?” Q asks. 

“Of course,” Bond replies, with a quick glance at Q that tells him just how silly the man thinks such an obvious question to be. Or, perhaps he thinks that _Q_ is silly for asking.

“Of course,” Q echoes dryly as the man still on top of him calmly reaches for his gun and aims for where he’d just seen the shooter. 

“You’re really going to stay right there and do _that_?” Q asks incredulously. 

“I need to make sure that you’re safe,” Bond replies, as if it’s the most natural thing to do. And the thing is that to Bond, it just might be. That should probably scare Q quite a bit, and yet...

“By laying on top of me? While we’re still being shot at?”

“I thought I’d already got him. Hmm, I suppose there’s another shooter after all.” 

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I didn’t know danger made you sassy like this. I like it. We should do this more often.” 

“Or how about we don't?” 

Bond chuckles, and then fires two bullets in quick succession. Q can see that they both hit their target: the first one causes the shooter to lose his gun, and the second one most likely his life. Q finds it hard to care too deeply, though, as the man had just been trying to kill them. 

“Well, I believe that was the end of that,” Bond comments. 

“You should probably go and check, though,” Q says, a touch regretfully. Now that no one’s shooting at them anymore and the restaurant is empty of anyone else, staying there under Bond is starting to sound like a wonderful way to spend his time.

But Q’s a professional, and an employer of MI6 besides, and he knows that duty calls. 

“I probably should, yes,” Bond agrees and finally gets up. He walks to check up on both of the men to make sure that neither will cause them any more trouble while Q sits up and gets out his mobile. He makes a call to M to relay the situation and to get their instructions, and ends the call by the time Bond returns to where he sits. 

“The clean-up crew are coming, then?” Bond says and holds out a hand to help Q up. 

Q nods. “M wasn’t exactly thrilled, but he’s dealing with everything. We’ll just need to wait here and make sure that the civilians stay away.” 

Instead of letting go of him, Bond uses the grip he has on Q to pull him into his arms. “You’re sure you’re fine?” he asks, looking Q in the eye. 

“I am,” Q assures him once more. He feels a little faint under such an intense gaze, though, but he guesses it’s mainly just the after effects of being in a dangerous situation. And also, a bit of Bond’s blue eyes so close to him. 

“Good,” Bond says, “because then I can do this.” And he leans in to kiss Q fully on the lips. 

The kiss is absolutely lovely: it’s gentle but passionate, with undercurrents of relief, protectiveness, and desire, and even hints of possessiveness floating under everything else. Q feels like he could easily drown in it and not mind one bit. He kisses Bond back with equal fervor and holds onto him with everything he has. 

They don’t stop kissing until after Tanner appears and clears his throat a few times. 

“So… a successful date, then?” Tanner says with a raised eyebrow. 

Bond just smirks. “You have no idea.” 

Afterwards, when the situation has been handled properly - to everyone’s surprise, the first man is still alive, and they should be able to interrogate him after he’s had his surgery - they all return to Six. Bond practically forces Q to go to Medical, where his wounds are cleaned and bandaged - luckily none of them is deep enough to need stitches - and then he accompanies him back to Q Branch. 

Perhaps Bond did not get to wine and dine him properly that evening, but he makes up for it by ordering them takeaway and helping him look up information on the shooters.

Well, his brand of help could possibly be categorised as hindering instead of helping, but Q’s not exactly complaining. 

Not after all the kisses he gets as compensation. 

  



End file.
